Mind your own damn business

Grace is a contributor to this blog. This blog is public. Sure, we don't advertise it to our friends and family, but it can be found. So I gotta be careful what I say and don't say.

Same goes for Facebook. Grace and I are friends on Facebook. Always have been, hope we always will be. She's never done anything to make me want to limit my profile to her, and I've respected her "space" in the social networking world.

(That being said, I'm thinking her honest comments on this matter would be priceless ;-) )

Moving on.

While I was growing up in my family, there was this curiosity about my romantic feelings that induced well-intentioned intrusion. My mother would question me about every boy I mentioned. And then she'd speculate about it with my grandmothers. Or my sisters. Or her friends at church. I hated it. It made me never want to date anyone. By the time I was in high school, I avoided discussing boys with my family at all costs. I had one boyfriend during all of high school (it lasted less than two months) and the rest of the time I hung out with gangs of friends. I remembered this feeling of resentment when I came time for me to parent my own adolescent daughter.

When Grace started high school, my advice to her was to have fun and not to get too serious with any one guy. Why? Because what's the point, really? You've got a lifetime to settle down with someone and commit a good bit of your time and resources to them. But you only have one chance to be a teen. One chance to make friends and hang out with them without too many time pressures. One chance to be carefree and find out who you are. In my opinion, the best shot a teen has at figuring out who they are is to do that independent of an attachment to a significant other. I told her that while she's a teen, she should look at romantic relationships and dating as like a best friend you happen to kiss sometimes. You don't start that relationship by someone walking up to you and saying, "let's get together this weekend." You don't have that friendship to the exclusion of others. And you don't hold on to that friendship if the other person isn't being a good friend.

Grace has been interested in boys on and off since she was in 7th grade. In these four years, there have been many episodes of fluttering feelings, heavy beating hearts, excitement and nerves, followed by cooling offs, mellowing outs, and resolutions to "just be friends." All in all, I'm fine with all of it. She seems to be able to identify the deadbeats and steer clear of them, regardless of how many times they hit on her. In the last month, she's been hanging out with one guy, trying to decide if he's someone she likes. Good, just as long as she keeps me up to speed on what's going on.

See, I figure she doesn't want me meddling in her life and getting off on the emotional volatility and possibilities of her romances. The best thing I can give her is a solid foundation to lean on when she needs me. She needs me to protect her, but not in a meddling way. I protect her because I love her, not because I find it exciting. I am not a matchmaker, an advice columnist, a gossip blogger, or a girlfriend. I am Grace's mother. I need to behave accordingly when she is a teenager in love.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only adult in Grace's life. There's lots of people who do get off on her possible romances. And meddle.

A year ago, Grace had her first real interest in a boy that she wanted to go on a date with. Nice kid. She mentioned it to her father. Who said he wanted to meet him. He told his sister. Who flew in to visit without Grace's knowledge. And at an orchestra concert where both Grace and the boy were performing, Grace's father waited to be introduced after the show. Grace's aunt pulled me to the side and said, "I hear Grace has a boyfriend! Was that him sitting to the right? With the brown hair? What do you think of him?" Ahem. Grace was 15 and the boy was 14. I think they are friends.

And then there's the times people meddle on facebook.

The last time Grace had a boyfriend, her father took the liberty posting on his facebook wall that he had just friended the boy as a way of keeping up with who he was. I think he was trying to say something witty about how technology today had completely changed his role as a responsible father. The romance was over a week later, in a quiet way. I don't know whether the boy retained his facebook connection with Grace's father.

Every time Grace puts up a picture on facebook of herself with a boy, my mother calls and asks who it is. Truth be told, most of her friends who are boys are gay. I never know what to tell my mother at that point. And I can never figure out why she asks me who the boys are and never who the girls are.

And then there's the latest event, the one that set my mind to blogging on this topic. A few days ago, Grace wrote on her facebook status that she went downtown with a boy. One of her aunts opened a facebook account less than a day ago. When she saw the status, she wrote, "Your aunt is asking who's [insert boy's name here]?" Subtle.

Is it any wonder teens avoid letting their parents see their facebook profiles? Grace happily accepts friend requests from all sorts of family and adult friends of the family. And she allows everyone to see her complete profile. Both her grandmothers, all her aunts and uncles and cousins, her parents and stepparents, and troves of friends of all these adults. All wanting to get a deeper look into the life of this teen. And comment on it. I give Grace a lot of credit; if I were her, I would have cut most of these people off a long time ago, what with their constant commentary on everything in her life.

Adults, remember what it was like to be a teenager. If a teenager allows you to take a peek into their real life, don't abuse that permission. Respect who they are and don't make embarrassing comments. If you do that, you only reenforce the teenager's desire to limit your access. And some of us parents are grateful that the teens trusts us with that peek.

Meddling, being honest, and how to keep friendships

Grace was at music camp last week. Choir concert, Grace looked and sounded great, I loved seeing her enjoy herself. Last night she told me that there was some drama during her week away. You know, the kind where the girls all talk late at night in their cabin and one girl confesses her undying love for a boy? And then some of the girls decide to intervene, you know, to help the fledgling lovers out? 'Cause their communication is breaking down? Except that by intervening, the girls make things worse. By the end of the trip, the one girl who was in love asked Grace what she thought of her. Grace was more than blunt. She told her she was being bitchy.

Did I mention that Grace didn't know the girl a week earlier? That she's an incoming freshman?

I told Grace she might not want to be so brutally honest with the girl. And that she shouldn't meddle. I don't know whether Grace is going to take my advice.

The whole story threw me back to my own middle school and high school experiences. (I confess, getting an invite to my 20th high school reunion this week helped the speed of my total recall significantly.) Remember when it was so exciting to be "in the know"? To be the one who was the facilitator? The helper? The one who was just trying to make everyone happy? I do. I seem to also recall stirring up quite a bit on controversy. Which was also exciting.

The point is, being the girl who was meddling oftentimes meant I was the one who caused unpleasant situations to come about. In the midst of my conversation with Grace about the situation, I told her that there are precious few times in which it's worth telling someone what you really think of their romantic inclinations towards another person. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I started challenging my own advice.

Is that true? As an adult, there are so many of my girlfriends who have gone through dating and marriage and divorce and cohabiting and reuniting...and on and on and on and on it goes. Most recently, one of my longest-term friends asked me to meet her boyfriend. Her idea was that I am one of her dearest friends, one of her closest and most intimate friends, and someone whose judgment she trusts. She wanted my opinion on the boyfriend. It's not the first time she's asked. Anyways, the end of the story is that I told her I thought he was great. Was that the truth? I ask you a more relevant question: Does it matter what my opinion of her boyfriend is?

Being honest with a close friend, especially about someone they are involved romantically with, is dangerous stuff. When you're in love, when you're physically close with someone, you really don't want to hear an objective opinion on what someone outside of the relationship thinks of your lover. Sure, you want to hear that your lover is great, fantastic, friendly, kind, smart, clever, funny, generous, thoughtful, or talented. That's the feedback you're looking for -- a confirmation that, in spite of your giggling and silliness and inability to see things objectively, you are being wise and smart and making good choices. But when you're in love, when your heart is spilling over with admiration and adoration of another human being, you don't wanna hear anything negative about him.

So here's my dilemma. When is it safe to be honest with a friend regarding a lover? There are clear times, like if he's abusive or extortive. But what if he's just a jerk? What if you question his ethics? What if he just rubs you the wrong way, over and over and over again? What if you just don't click with him? I find myself weighing the value of what I think is best for a friend versus what is really best for that friend. So what if I don't agree with someone's politics or ethics? Or if I find them a jerk? Does that outweigh a friend's potential for unlimited happiness? Isn't it a bit arrogant of myself to believe that my long lasting friendship with someone is more valuable than someone else's relationship with her?

Of course, there is the other side to this dilemma. Live and let live, que sera, sera, and such. It's so easy to stay out of someone's business. So much easier than speaking your mind and risking the backlash. Then the question of what is more important is between my comfort and a friend's well-being.

Where does the line lay? Is there any way to formulate a rule that works in every situation?

I would love to hear the stories out there. One friend has already given me her sad experience, the moral of the story being, NEVER tell someone what you think of their lover. EVER. And the story really was very, very sad. Another friend, one who was separated from her husband when he was exploring the kinky side of middle age, she just reunited with him after six full years of feuding. They are happy as ever. Unfortunately, I was brutally honest with her and way over-involved in their complications. Now I'm wondering if we'll ever get the intimacy of our friendship back.

I'm just trying to figure out what I should tell Grace, you know? 'Cause like every good parent, this really has nothing to do with me (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say-no-more, say-no-more).

Homecoming is here again.

Tonight. Tonight's the night.

It's Homecoming at Grace's high school.

Last year I had no idea what Homecoming meant, what the event entailed. This year, I was prepared.

There's a football game, yes, but who really cares about that? Grace especially doesn't care given that she's on the swim team and they had a meet scheduled at exactly the same time as the Homecoming football game.

The most important event, of course, is a dance. A semi-formal. Grace, unlike most girls, goes to a dance and wants to dance. She wants to be wild, be goofy, take pictures, eat, and have A LOT OF FUN. BOOOOOOOO, she says to the girls who go to these events and look and act like princesses, not daring to do anything to muss themselves. A dance is for letting down your hair and HAVING FUN.

Now that you get the picture, here are the essential points I have learned since last year.

#1 - It is very important that you pick out a dress that makes you look spectacular. It is also very important that no one else pick out your spectacular dress.

Grace and I set out a day, a Saturday three weeks ago, to go shopping together for a dress. The two of us with baby Stella in tow went to the mall on a mission. Once we had located the motherload of dresses at our favorite department store, we grabbed as many dresses as we could find and Grace tried on at least thirty. We narrowed it down to eight, and then two. Finally, she decided on a purply-blue satin dress with silver accents. Low cut in the front, yes, but not in a way that looks slutty. It's technically a halter top, but the back has this fantastic look where two straps come from her nape down to the sides of the dress. Like backless with some flair. She said it didn't look like a typical Homecoming dress, the kind that people would expect you to buy (ergo, no one else is likely to pick out the same dress). She also bought $16 silver ballet flats with a big sequined flower at the toes that make the dress stand out and look fun. And that you actually dance in, as opposed to just look dressy in.

Stella behaved perfectly through the whole process.

#2 - You have to weigh the pros and cons of going with a date.

Grace mentioned to me this Tuesday that she might be going to the dance with a date. Now you must realize, Grace has never actually been on a date before. I asked her for more details. Well, she said, it was a friend of hers, someone who has a girlfriend who goes to another high school, but they may be breaking up, but that doesn't matter because Grace and this boy are just friends, and in the end, who really would think much of it anyway? By Wednesday she told me there was no date because she decided that the whole situation was just too complicated. Last night, she told me that several boys had asked her to the dance, but she turned them all down because she didn't want to have to spend all night with one guy when what she really wanted to do was party with her girlfriends. OK, then.

#3 - Corsages are not obligatory.

Last year, at the last minute only hours before the dance, I remembered that Grace would need a corsage for the dance. I called four florists from my office before one would agree that they could get it ready in the space of three hours. I agreed, paid through the nose for it, and it was beautiful. It matched her dress perfectly. I brought it home, my husband gave it to her, and she smiled for pictures with the lovely attached to her wrist. Then she quietly slipped it off before we left for the dance, leaving it on her desk at home. She put it up on display after the weekend as a souvenir. My husband was hurt. She explained to us that it's really weird to wear a corsage if you don't have a date. And though it might be nice to have a corsage and a date, see the discussion under #2.

So, my life is easy. No corsage to worry about this year. Or ever, for that matter, since I only have daughters.

#4 - When you get ready for the dance, it is way more fun to do this with friends.

I have this old-fashioned, idealized notion that every time my daughter has a formal event to attend, she will be close by so that I can relish in her getting ready process and can take an endless number of photos before she actually attends. In the sitting room, by the front door, in a scenic location both in the front yard and the back yard, a beautiful pose, a silly pose, posed with my husband, posed with me, and on and on and on the list goes.

Well, Grace doesn't really have all this as part of her idealized night of Homecoming. She wants to get ready with her friends and go to the dance with them too. The only way for both me and her to have our way is for me to host her friends and let them all get ready at my house. So two of her friends are coming over this afternoon and they are spending two hours getting ready together. Grace wants pizza and other refreshments on hand. I am surprising her by providing Izze, a beverage far too expensive for every day consumption.

I'll take pictures of all three girls in the sitting room, by the front door,...

#5 - Parents should be cool and trust teenagers who have never dreamed of doing anything dangerous in the first place.

'Nuff said.

Happy Homecoming, all you sophomores at Grace's high school.

Should the arts be censored for teenagers?

The following post has been amended as of October 13, 2009, with changes and comments immediately following. A follow up post on October 16, 2009 addresses these amendments.

Last night I attended the first PTA meeting of the school year at Grace's school. I have been involved in this organization since before Grace finished 8th grade. Last year was my learning year, we could say. That is, I learned that organizations that have no profit margin or dollar amount placed on time tend to harbor lots of endless conversation and controversy. After a few months of participating, I learned how to protect my time and, to some extent, how to diffuse the energy from never-ending debates.

Last night there were several controversies. There was a 30-40 minute interrogation of the principal over her lack of sufficient communication to the school community after the first day of school regarding a potential criminal matter at a bus stop. Then there was more discussion regarding her past failure to post the daily announcements at the school's website. A last minute controversy began over how much of a voice the students have in matters like what type of food is served at the Homecoming dance and how much they should be emotionally supported by the PTA. And then one very concerned parent brought up the theatre department's choice of an annual school musical -- Annie Get Your Gun.*

The last parent, new to the school since her daughter is a freshman, expressed great disapproval of the musical. It glorifies the use of firearms and requires that we introduce weapons as props in a play. Further, women and native Americans suffer the ills of discrimination and inequality throughout the libretto.

Fair enough, these are valid points. And fair enough that the parent brought up these concerns at this point even though auditions for the musical began yesterday afternoon. When all is said and done, it's very unlikely that the theatre department will change their choice at this point. Consequently the discussion becomes one of values and opinions, rather than one that will effect real change. Still, the discussion rankled me. I was irritated. I was annoyed. I thought this woman was doing it for show, putting on airs so as to establish her superiority in the pecking order that is the PTA.

It was only later that I thought, why do I feel this way?

It was censorship. It's the idea that teenagers can't handle information.

For the purpose of my discussion here, let's abstract away from the issue that the school musical is an extracurricular activity that the kids are not required to participate in. There are plenty of things that students are exposed to in the name of education that could be construed as inappropriate along the same line of reasoning. If you've ever been in education, you know the laundry list of literature of all genres that has been subject to censorship in the curriculum. What is worse for students to read: Annie Get Your Gun or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? What about The Catcher in the Rye? The Taming of the Shrew? (Or God forbid, Kiss Me Kate.) The question of whether teenagers can handle discussion of sensitive issues has been out there for quite a long while. Some believe that all of the aforementioned titles should be banned from a school's curriculum. Others err of the side of liberalism and say none of it should be censored. And then there are the curious cases in which people nit pick on a case by case basis, reaching inconsistent verdicts for each work.

It bothers me considerably. I don't think that the school or the government or any other board should be censoring material. I think that's the job of parents. If my daughter is deeply involved in a theatrical production that has themes I don't agree with, I can take the opportunity to talk to her about those issues. That's my take on the issue.

When I was a senior in high school, I was the student director of the school's production of Oklahoma! Weapons, discrimination against women, yeah, they were in there. Heck, it was my great-grandfather's double-barreled shotgun that was used as a prop by Andrew Carnes. That's right, an actual firearm was used as a prop.** In one of the final scenes, we directed Will Parker to lasso Ado Annie and pull her to him, an act demonstrating that he had indeed won her over. No one objected. When Grace was in 8th grade, her middle school put on The Sound of Music. There, in middle of Act I, Leisl swung her body back and forth flirtatiously towards Rolf while singing the words, 'I need someone older and wiser telling me what to do. You are 17 going on 18; I'll depend on you.' I was concerned for the actress playing Leisl and hoped one of her parents took the opportunity to talk about her place in the world as a young woman. But still, I don't think the play should have been censored because of these lyrics.

If students don't encounter these works, these works that were contemporary in their time but that now are rightfully deemed discriminatory, how will students learn about the history of these issues? How will they develop the ability to recognize subtle forms of discrimination when they appear? How will they come to appreciate the progress we have made (or haven't) as a society? In short, if students have no access to these works, how will we begin a discussion with them about the issues they raise?

I don't know if my stance makes me a raving liberal or a staunch conservative. Since I want a hands off approach, that should make me conservative. But since we're talking about social issues and I'm advocating full access to information, that should make me a liberal. Who knows. But that's my stance and I'm sticking to it.


*I want to be sure to note here that the theatre director chose the 1999 revival version of the musical to put on, a revision of the script and libretto that significantly reduces the level of racial and gender-based discrimination. I'm not sure the objecting parent knows this.

**Granted, the barrel of the shotgun wasn't aligned correctly and the whole weapon weighed about 35 lbs. I doubt anyone could have used it effectively as weapon, much less even pick it up.

AMENDED ON OCTOBER 13, 2009
I received an email from the parent who voiced concern about the choice of Annie Get Your Gun as the choice of dramatic musical at Grace's high school. A colleague of hers found the blog on October 12 and forwarded her the link to this post. She notes several inaccuracies which I correct here. I always strive to accurately represent things here since bloggers get a lot of criticism for not checking their facts. In the interest of presenting the facts more accurately, please note the changes below. My apologies for any misunderstandings for any and all readers that may have occurred as a result of these errors.

• The child of this parent is a sophomore, thus she did know about the choice of the musical the previous spring. The concerns she raised in September have been brought up since last June.
  
• To clarify that my first impressions of her at the meeting were indeed incorrect, her motivation in bringing up these concerns at a PTA meeting was not to "put on a show, airs, or establish my superiority in the pecking order of the PTA." Rather, she is extremely busy and would prefer to be minimally involved in the organization.
  
• She was aware that the revised version of the musical was selected by the theatre director before making her objections.
• She reiterated in correspondence with me that she strongly disagrees that parents should have a "hands-off" approach as I advocate here.
  

The beginning of Stella

Yesterday Stella turned one month old. I haven't said much about her. So here's a tidbit. As usual, it's really about me.

Lately I've been telling stories to Stella as she is nursing or is falling asleep. I started with telling her about the day she was born. That was when she was two weeks old. It was inspired by my neighbor who came over to visit a few days earlier with her two kids, 8 and 6. As we visited, she asked how I was and how Stella was at birth. Her kids chimed in and asked their mother, 'how much did I weigh, momma?" and "what was it you said the first time you heard me cry, momma?" It was clear that each one of them had heard the story of their birth over and over.

Then I moved to telling Stella how much her daddy loved her. I told her about how much we wanted to have a baby and how long we waited and how, the entire time I was pregnant, we were careful, and a little nervous that something would go wrong, and a tad scared that she would have a problem or not be healthy and that we worked so hard to make sure she was healthy and happy and safe.

And then I realized, part of the story goes back to when my husband and I first started seeing each other. He told me he wanted to have children. Like, in week two of dating. And I said something like, I don't believe you, or, you needed to explain what it is exactly about children that you want. It was only after much time had passed that he told me how much my response revealed about me. He told me I was seeing him as just a typical man and that I assigned all the stereotypical values and perspectives to him without ever even probing to see if those were valid assumptions.

See, I had accidentally gotten pregnant with Grace by my first long-term boyfriend. I thought he was great. I was in love, as they say. I thought, nothing can stop us now. We'll get married and be together forever. We can survive. It was like that country song by Trisha Yearwood, "She's in Love With The Boy."



God, when I hear that song on the radio it makes me sick to my stomach. I wish I could grab every young girl who's fantasizing while listening to that song and shake her up and say, 'for the LOVE OF GOD and all things holy, LISTEN to your father for half a second and don't even THINK about marrying that boy some day!" As you all know, things did not work out with my boyfriend in the way I envisioned. Yeah, once Grace was born, he thought she was cute and all. And he played with her. On some days he got inspired and planned a whole day of fun with her. But...

Parenting is hard work. It's not all fun and games. He didn't like the hard parts. So he got to do all the fun stuff and I ended up with the rotten stuff like changing diapers and giving time outs and staying home while he went out (with who?) and working on homework. At the tail end of our relationship, he would want to have fun with me alone and would get angry if I didn't find a sitter at short notice, saying it was like I didn't even like being with him (well, truth be told...). I haven't even touched whether my job or career was as important as his; suffice it to say, mine was a needed source of income, his was the one that mattered. When push came to shove, I needed to work, and I was the one who needed to figure out childcare and everything else. After we divorced, it was clear who was the "fun" parent and who was the "disciplinarian." I made up my mind then and there, I'm never having kids with anyone again.

I admit, it was a completely sexist decision. I actually always wanted to have a big family with lots of kids. Four sounded perfect to me. Sure, a lot of work, but if there's two people who love each other, two people who are really invested in a family and committed to making it work, then a big family can be joyful even though it is a bit hectic. But through the course of my first marriage, I decided that men are not prepared as people to take on the commitment of parenting in the way that I envisioned they could. They wanted to have a healthy sized progeny in order to ensure that they passed on their genes and their name. I wanted my kids to have a father who was involved in their lives, one who would love being with them as much as I did. One who felt like they were a part of him, not just an extension of his life. By the time I was separating from Grace's father, I had had enough of it. I wanted Grace to have an awesome dad and she didn't. I had tried to make a family work, it didn't work, and now I was 30 and didn't want to try and fail again. And so I let the dream that I wanted, the dream of the big, happy family, die.

Enter my husband-to-be and his comment during our nascent romance. He wanted to have children. I had been divorced long enough to know it wasn't easy to rebuild a family, that is, to create a stepfamily. In fact, it was a hard thing to do. And I already had a daughter who was nine and I was starting a 5-year PhD program within months. There would be a big age gap between my only child and her next sibling. Was it possible to build a family?

After two years of feeling each other out and making sure this was the 'real thing,' we got married. See, along the way to marriage, my husband convinced me through the ways he treated me and cared for me that he valued me as an equal in our relationship. I also saw how he cared for Grace, Grace, who wasn't making forming a parent-child relationship between the two of them easy. Once we made the decision to get married, we immediately started thinking about another child. But within two months of our wedding, we were seeing a reproductive endocrinologist at the infertility clinic because me, I had some bad symptoms and some bad family medical history. It took a little more than four years and a whole lot of medical treatment for me until we held our baby Stella in our arms.

I tried to tell Stella the abbreviated version of the story a few days ago. It wasn't easy. I don't think it ever will be. But I did manage to tell her that we were very, very happy to finally have her in our lives. I hope that I can explain the story to her in a way that she can understand while she is young so that she can grow up knowing that her parents longed for her more than she can imagine.

Well, hello again.

So, sorry, that was a bit of a break, wasn't it? It was the result of a conspiracy of too many thoughts running through my head, too many logistical details making it difficult to post, and a difficulty putting words together that expressed myself adequately.

Where to start? I guess I should start with, nothing's wrong. The pregnancy is going well. We picked a name *I think.* The first name came quickly, but a second name was a pain. See, we have to pick names that not only go together, but that create a somewhat normal flow from surname to surname. My last name is about as English as you can get and my husband's is about as Latin as you can get. So our kid's name has to go first-name, middle-name, English-name, Latin-name. And it all has to be pronouncable (yes, I say that that's a word) in English and in Portuguese and is has to sound nice in both languages and it has to flow in both languages. Anyways, we seem to have met all those criteria and I think it's all good. More details on that little girl on Sunday for The Weekly Slug.

As for what's been going on otherwise, I'll just pick up with Grace and her father, my ex-husband. Easter sucked, as it always does. Grace always spends it with her father. As far as I ever knew, her father could care less about the holiday. But Grace's stepmother loves it. So for the most part, it's out of the question for Grace not to spend Easter with her father and stepmother. That led me to a couple realizations. First, I'm really sick of sharing my daughter's time. She's my daughter and I think it's normal for a parent to want to spend the holidays with their kid. Divorce screws all that up. I'm just supposed to accept that and get over it and just be happy. So is Grace and so is her father (who, remember, I don't think really cares that much about seeing his kid anyways; more on that a bit later). I guess this is why some couples figure it's better to stay together than split up. Whatever. It sucks. It really, really sucks. And I'm just tired of it. It won't ever get better with Grace, I'll just be sharing her with other people for the rest of my life. It's just part of the sucking suckiness that is the world I lived in long ago with my ex-husband. Sucks.

Then there's the other half of this. I've written before about how sick I am of Grace's father not calling and communicating about wanting to see Grace, and then expecting everyone to just drop everything when he does get around to placing a call. And I've had more than one person tell me it's my responsibility to make sure Grace sees her father no matter how much of a slacker he is. So instead of me waiting for him to confirm a visit and assuming it's off and waiting until Grace desperately calls him and asks if he's going to spend time with her and he calls acting like that was his intention all along, I should be taking care of everything and walking him through the process, and play like I'm still his helpful mate. Hm. I've finally put two and two together as to why this bothers me so much.

Grace's father is not so bad. He's kept the same job for the last ten years. He's never been arrested. He doesn't gripe about paying child support. He isn't mean or abusive to Grace, nor is anyone else he's exposing Grace to, to the best of my knowledge. This doesn't mean I think everything he does is terrific, it just means he could be way worse. However, there's one very useful skill he's developed over his lifetime that is very clever, and one I'm not so keen on. He knows how to not lift more fingers than he has to and make other people do his work for him. And for some reason, many people, myself included, feel like it's no big deal to pick up the slack where he leaves off. I'll give an example to illustrate the point.

Last week while Grace was staying with him at his house, he called me at 10p. Everyone was up -- him, his wife, two toddlers, Grace, two dogs, the tv, you name it. I was surprised. Except for Grace, they all had to go to daycare and work the next day. The next night when Grace returned home, Grace told me that her plan for the day had been to sleep in and when she woke up after everyone else had left the house, she was supposed to call her grandmother to come pick her up and spend the day at her grandmother's house. But that's not what happened. Instead what happened was that the parents woke up late without time to get the toddlers up and ready, or time to drive them to school and make it in to work themselves. So Grace's father called his mother and asked her to come over, get the kids ready, and take them to daycare so he and his wife could leave for work right away. The inconvenience to Grace was that her grandmother said she wouldn't make two trips to the house, so Grace would need to get up and be ready to go for the day when she got there.

It might have been a one time occurrence, I agree. Maybe. But I've known the guy for almost 20 years. This is pretty much how he operates. He screws up, and then he calls on other people to help him out. Once in awhile would be ok, but all the time gets tiring. In my experience, he doesn't really reciprocate the favors.

So I was married to this guy for over 8 years. Did I put up with this? Hell, yes. Way too much. I learned to figure out how to get him to do what I needed him to do. And I never assumed he would do more. The week we separated, I had an a-ha moment of just how much I carried him due to his own negligence to keep track of stuff. The deadline for his financial aid form was due for his grad school tuition that week. I knew it, because I kept track of all that stuff. I always showed it to him, but he didn't keep track of it himself at all. I thought about calling him and reminding him, walking him through the process, coddling him as I had done for so many years. And then suddenly I realized, no, I don't need to do this anymore. He's a grown-up, over 30 years old. He can take care of his own grad school tuition. After all, I'm definitely not going to be here forever. I don't know what the result was, but I felt foolish at that moment realizing how much I had taken care of and looked out for. The guy didn't know much of what was going on at school with his daughter, didn't know about the maintenance on the only car we owned, didn't know anything about our finances. The only thing he did know was how to get cash out of an ATM so that his spending wouldn't leave a paper trail.

Back to Grace. Recently Grace's father has been less than able to keep up with his visitation schedule. In the last couple months, for the first time, Grace decided just not to worry about calling him and arranging visitation. Sure enough, we heard not a word from him until the evening of the first night he was supposed to spend with her. I don't know what he told her, but he assured her that he would be there to pick her up that Friday for the weekend. And that he did -- 3 hours late. The next weeknight that he was scheduled to spend with her, again, we didn't hear from him until late the night before. He talked to her first and gave her some explanation as to why he wouldn't see her. She said fine and handed the phone to me. I talked about Easter weekend and Grace's spring break with him and that was that. By the time spring break was over and the event of the "calling grandma over to pick up the slack" occurred, I realized what has been bothering me for so long. It's everyone around this guy, including his daughter, accommodating his behavior and acting as if it's acceptable. The everyone else is their own choice. But my daughter? No.

That's the core of it. I want my daughter to not accept that she has to give and give and give in a relationship, doing what the other person can't (or won't) do. Part of the reason she still sees him at all is because other adults in his life have carried him - his mother, his wife. But I think it has to stop when it comes to your kids. The bottom line is, I don't want my daughter to learn that a relationship is supposed to be one person giving and striving and yearning and desiring while the other person just treats the whole thing like easy come, easy go. It's dysfunctional, at best.

Imagine if this scenario was your kid in a relationship with a boyfriend or girlfriend. Your kid places all the calls, waits around for hours until the significant other bothers to show up, accepts every explanation imaginable for being late or standing her up, always expects that plans can be made at the spur of the moment...

Would you be happy? I wouldn't. I'd tell my kid to get out of the relationship because this person was completely walking all over them, taking advantage of their affections, and giving nothing in return.

But yet Grace's father is teaching her that it's ok for her to be treated this way. Yeah, I put up with it, and I learned my lesson the hard way. But you know what? I think that my gained experience should count for something in how I parent my daughter.

So I finally answered (a big part of) the question of why I dislike Grace's stepmother and why I wish she would go away. Because she's an enabler. She makes it possible for Grace's father to be in Grace's life, and for him to implicitly teach Grace that she should put up with his negligence and pick up the slack. And there's a good chance that if Grace puts up with his behavior, he won't be the last person she does it for.

Sorry to come back on such a sour note, but it had to be gotten off my chest.

**************

AN ADDENDUM

One more thought I had after rereading this. I ended this post sounding like I blame this whole thing on Grace's stepmother. Oh, no. No, that would get Grace's father off the hook far too easily. He's the one who's the big screw up, the one who's being a jerk in his relationship with his daughter. I'm just sick of other people around him (his mother, his wife) putting up with it and continuing the cycle of women who learn to tolerate this kind of behavior from a man. For my daughter's sake, I'd just as soon these women would wise up or move to a place away from influence over my daughter.

Parents' rights

This is going to be along the lines of setting a few basic things straight. Things brought up by the Palin family drama.

In case you haven't caught the recent news, Bristol Palin, teenage mother of 3-month-old Tripp, has broken up with Tripp's dad, Levi. Bristol, young and not yet in possession of a high school diploma or equivalency, is living at home and asking for help raising Tripp from her family. Lately Levi has been saying he's not allowed to see his child as much as he likes. And to add more drama to the situation, Bristol's mom Sarah not only backs up her daughter's decision not to let Levi see the baby more often, she says he's a liar about stating that the family knew the two teens were having sex and that he was allowed to stay at the Palin household in the days leading up to the birth of his child.

When I put it like that, it sounds like a great weekly drama series, huh? And think, I didn't even have to mention the part about how these people are getting their more than 15 minutes of fame out of the whole thing!

As I understand it, here are a few problems with the scenario from a legal standpoint.

• The father of this infant son, Levi Johnston, has a legal right to see his son. He has that right whether or not he is in a relationship with the child's mother and whether or not he is deemed responsible or honest by the mother's family.
• In fact, as many have pointed out incorrectly, he has a right to see his son whether or not he can afford child support. Family courts in the United States are quick to point out to those who don't understand this idea, the right of a parent to see their child is in no way affected by a non-custodial parent's ability to pay child support. The two are not contingent upon one another. Quite the opposite, a custodial parent (Bristol, apparently by default, in this case) can be held in contempt of court if they refuse visitation to the other parent on the basis of non-payment of child support. Don't get me wrong, parents should provide financial support to children. But this is not part of the picture when discussing whether parents should be able to see their children.
• The grandparent of a child has no pre-eminent right to decisions about that child's welfare over either of the child's parents. So in this case, Sarah appears to be overstepping her boundaries. It appears that she takes her own decisions and the decisions of her daughter, the child's mother, to outweigh the decisions of the child's father.

Hm.

Are we to believe that fathers are unimportant? That they should be kept out of sight? That they should only be permitted to see their children when a mother says it's ok? No, no more so than mothers should be treated this way.

Where are the pro bono family attorneys in Alaska? And why isn't one of them representing this father? A father who is being deprived of the right to see his child? A father who is being forced to allow all decisions regarding his child's welfare up to the other parent? Um...am I the only one here who thinks that most of the media is focused too much on who the players are and not enough of basic rights of parents, no matter how young they are? Why are the rights of this father, who is a legal adult, less important the rights of this mother?

Regardless of whether you think this family are a bunch of rednecks or the most moral family on the face of the planet, clearly they are in need of some intervention from the state family courts. Children's parenting should not be left up to their most wealthy and most powerful family members.

***A brief disclaimer - yeah, I'm a blogger, and yeah, I'm writing about Sarah Palin. That puts me at risk for being called a liar. But she's already called me and my kind a bunch of liars, so what have I got to lose? Nothing, but I think this young baby has a lot to lose if no one says anything. Since clearly no one in Tripp's family seems to understand the legality of custody, I figured someone had to say something. Hopefully even while Sarah's going around calling everyone a liar, she'll realize that her grandson would do best to have a father who's allowed to be involved.***

Handling the boys

A couple weeks back someone who knew Grace at a younger point in her life asked me how she was. I told them about transition to high school and how that affects her social life. I told him about the most recent school dance at her school. He wanted to know whether Grace had a date. I said, "No, she's just not that into boys." I explained that she's definitely into putting up posters of celebrities and gossiping with her friends, but when it comes to actual boys, she's pretty wary.

And that's pretty much true. Her friends are into having boyfriends and going out on dates and all the rest, but she's not interested in that. For a while I thought that it was just that Grace ran with a group of kids whose parents were like me, so there was no chance 14-year-olds were going out on dates. But that turns out to be false. A little while ago when I was driving Grace and her friends to the mall, one of her friends was talking about her boyfriend. She was trying to explain to Grace and the other girls why she hadn't broken up with him yet. And then she quickly realized, I was in the car and listening to the whole schpeal. She asked me please not to tell her mom. Then she explained that her parents don't allow her to go out on dates. I asked for clarification -- she's going out out on dates with this boy...and her parents don't know about it? She's a pretty nice girl and with pretty attentive parents. I wanted to know, how is she getting out of the house at age 14 to go on dates with a boy without her parents knowing? She explained that she would ask them to drop her off somewhere, saying she was meeting friends. Only she wasn't meeting friends, she was meeting the boyfriend.

There's a great aside I have to interject here. I told Grace's friend that I wouldn't tell her mother, but I also told her that she needed to be careful and make sure she was safe. That was the most important. She completely misunderstood me. She quickly replied and told me that they weren't messing around or having sex or anything. I assured her that I was sure she wasn't because this group of girls was pretty smart and knew that wasn't a good idea at their age. No, I was talking about her physical safety, given that her parents were left in the dark about where she was and what she was doing. If no one knew where she really was and who she was really with, that meant she was on her own to take care of herself. I'm not sure she understood the point I was making.

So Grace is well in the loop when it comes to boys and dating and all the rest. She just doesn't want it for herself.

I suppose this might be evidence she actually listens to me and takes my advice. I told her at the beginning of this school year that if I were her, I would just stay aloof for all of high school. I explained that she could have just as much fun going out with groups of friends and having boys who are her friends as she could if she has one exclusive boyfriend. She listened, but I figured it went in one ear and out the other. Well, it turns out I was wrong.

I can imagine what's going through your head about now. You're wondering how I would ever know whether my daughter has a boyfriend. Maybe she has a boyfriend at school and she's just very careful about talking about it. She's not as careless as her friend was in conversation with me.

That's a good point. I've assumed for several years now that she has crushes. She had one last spring. Didn't turn into anything except a boy who is her friend. And I know she's kissed a boy before because she told me she did. She even went on a "date" while at camp last summer to the dance at the end of the session. And she gets hit on a lot. Sometimes she's oblivious. Most times she catches it because the boys are so bloody obvious at this age. But what's great is when you can catch her in the act of defusing the hit.

A few days ago, a boy she doesn't know sent her a note on facebook. They probably have a ton of friends in common on facebook because he goes to another local high school that a bunch of Grace's friends also go to. In the message, he went straight for the kill: "hey are u very outgoing cuz ur cute." She replied thanks, but do I know you? And then came the reply: "no but I wanna be friends are u busy this weekend?" She got right to it. Yes, she was busy, and she doesn't mean to be rude, but she doesn't go out with guys she's never met before. She goes on about her reputation and how it would be really awkward if she were known for meeting up with strange guys for dates because she wants to move to NYC and be an actress and all.

The exchange goes on for 12 more messages in which she strings a wild tall tale about how her father's family has this really raunchy reputation that she's been trying to live down and she's not going to ruin it now, and how she doesn't mean to be rude but she only meets friends at church and school and volunteer events and stuff, not over facebook, and how he really doesn't want to get her annoyed because she can be really pissy when she's annoyed. If the guy's really a stalker, he's not going to convince Grace to meet him somewhere. If the guy's just a freshman who wants a date, I don't think this is going anywhere.

Don't Ask How I Got Access To This Entire Dialogue And Left No Trace That Anyone Had Been Snooping Through The Private Inbox Of Grace's Facebook Account.

figuring out the next generation

I like to think of myself as being in touch with my daughter's generation, sensitive to the changing world.

In a word -- hip.

But, it happened. I encountered something among Grace and her friends that really threw me for a loop. I mean, something that really confused me and I didn't quite know how to interpret it.

Update on facebook -- if you are a teen, you make it a goal to get as many friends as possible on facebook. If you have fewer than 100, you have got to be more social. 200 is decent. The teens who are getting elected homecoming queen? Try over 500. It is quite a feat, I have to admit. Adolescence is a time when everyone is petty and mean. You might ask someone to be your friend on facebook and they'd reject you. Just thinking about the whole thing makes me so grateful facebook wasn't around when I was in high school.

Grace has close to 400 friends on facebook. Granted, a large part of that is due to switching schools three times in three years. But she is a rather social girl, one who tries not to be in cliques or alienate people. One of her facebook friends was a very popular, very high profile, very privileged young woman she knew in 8th grade. She has over 700 facebook friends. Well, this girl posted a video message to one of her girlfriends on her facebook page. For those of you unfamiliar with facebook, this means every single on of the 700+ facebook friends could view this video. It was about 3 minutes long. She was in bed, listening to slow music, and expressing her deep, adoring, affectionate love for this girlfriend. She said she missed her. She said she wanted to snuggle with her. She said how much she loved her and loved spending time with her and couldn't wait to see her in first hour the next day at school. It went on and on and on.

I was thrown. Has it become commonplace among this generation for all expressions of emotion to become public to everyone they know? I've heard of people proposing marriage in a very public way, but this is something altogether different.

I asked Grace about it. I said, is she joking? Grace said she couldn't tell. I asked her, how do you know how to react to something like this? She said she would usually just ignore it. I asked her, what if someone said all these things about you on facebook? She said she'd kill them and then un-friend them on facebook.

Alright, let me just assure you guys, I'm not freaking out, just completely confused by the whole thing. I'm going back to my freshman year of high school and trying to imagine what it would have been like if the gossip had traveled at the speed of light. I feel the groan deep in my stomach just thinking about it.

girls and cute boys

As the mother of a teen girl, I have to be sensitive to the fact that she is more naïve than she would like to admit. For instance, when she arrived home after seeing Twilight on opening night, she was swooning over Edward. It was Edward this, Edward that, Edward is so amazingly cute.

Really. I would have never guessed that a vampire flick would be about a vampire boy and a human girl and he just seems so, well, you know, appealing, you know?

(Yes, I know. It's because he's a vampire. In literature, the vampire's thirst for blood commonly shows up as an allegory for sex. So yes, I know you think he's, well, you know, so cool and hot, you know.)

But there's another one that's a little more in my face and authentic that my daughter and her peers noticed this fall: Michael Phelps. Yes, her swim coach's husband knows him. Would he come by swim practice? Highly doubtful. But could we think about it? Imagine it? Can we admire his athletic acumen, his skill, his determination, his....oh cripe. You all know where this is going. The girls on the swim team were all swooning over him because he's got possibly the most amazing body imaginable and since he's swimmer, that body gets splashed all over every photo spread in all it's glory. Actually, it's remarkable that the girls can see past his relatively awkward demeanor, mediocre interviewing skills, and rather plain every-man look...oh, what am I saying??!!?!??!? Of course they can look past that because the rest of his physique is robustly overpowering any shortcoming he might have!

The girls either don't realize or don't want to admit how much of their affection for him is based in raw sex appeal.

Given the bravado of this young man and Grace's perked interest in his every action, the only question I need to ask myself is, how can I work this to my advantage? Enter stage left his newly released book, No Limits: The Will To Succeed. 8 chapters for 8 gold medals (they couldn't resist). Just released yesterday and word has it that one of the chapters addresses his struggles with ADHD and how he made the disorder work for him. Christmas solved.

Don't worry; I bought her a copy of Twilight for Christmas too ;-)

It just don't add up fer me

When I was a sophomore in high school I bought the album Kick by INXS. I asked my mom to bring me to the mall, I walked right into Spec's music store, pulled the casette out of the wall and put my $7.99 + tax on the counter. I walked out of that store knowing I now owned a piece of real rock 'n' roll. INXS was no bubblegum band or overrated pop group. They had everything a teenage girl found appealing.

I convinced my mother to let me walk in the neighborhood early in the mornings for exercise. I loaded that cassette into my Walkman and went at it. My favorite song? "New Sensation." I knew every single word to that song. Still do. I played it over and over. That song was great for getting your heart pumping in a workout. And then there was "Never Tear Us Apart." Do you remember the video to that song? That Michael Hutchence had me swooning. Him walking so slowly with that awesome jacket and great hair, and the boots. He was some kind of a sight. It was a day and age in which you really didn't know what sorts of things rock stars were up to, you just formed whole narratives of their lives based on music videos. You didn't know that music videos were marketing tools; you thought they were true reflections of the creative genius of the band themselves, freely expressing themselves. So I saw INXS and Hutchence and I thought, what an amazingly creative and sensitive guy. And wow, he is good-looking, isn't he?

Last night Grace asked me to update her "80s" playlist for her iPod. Not all the songs are really from the 80s, but she really doesn't care. She just knows there's some songs that go together and she wants them in one playlist. Among the new songs she wants to put on there: "Need You Tonight" by INXS.

Do I need to remind you of the lyrics? The first thing you hear is Hutchence whispering come over here, followed by driving guitar riffs. The title of the song comes in as he croons passionately, "I need you tonight, 'cause I'm not sleeping...there's something about you, girl, that makes me sweat."

Whoa. As Grace asked me for this song on her iPod, I thought, is this age appropriate? And then I realized not only had I heard the song at the same age, I had swooned over the lead singer while watching the video daily on MTV. The lead singer who was dressed only in a leather jacket and pants for the video. Oh, and I owned the album and listened to it over and over and over and over until the lyrics were burned into my memory forever.

And then it occurred to me, how did I ever convince my mother to let me buy this album? We had a pretty strict household. I'm sure she had seen the videos and heard the songs, yet she allowed me to buy the album? Huh?

So I'm letting Grace have the song because she said, I love the way it sounds! I can imagine; so do I. At least she hasn't seen the music videos. And she definitely won't swoon for the band because Michael Hutchence, afterall, is dead.

News from the front

Homecoming was fine. Homecoming was good. Homecoming was exhausting.

I am happy to be through with a solid week of self-involvement on the part of a teenager. Why do they schedule an entire week of themed dress-up days anyway? Superhero day, my god. It's exhausting to deal with a teenager who's very concerned about her social image and not concerned that she is dissing her parents in the process.

I feel relieved to have gotten past this. I kind of want her to have a date in the future so that it's not just all about us helping her get ready and taking her to the events.

The hair looked great, by the way. We also discovered that you should wear a full skirt and comfortable shoes. Remember, I had no experience with this sort of thing as a teen, so how would I know these things? Nonetheless, I wore full skirts to formal events.

More Not-So-Subtle Discrimination

I can't not write about this.*

The Tyler Morning Telegraph, the local newspaper in Tyler, Texas, reports that three students at Van I.S.D. (Texas) were suspended because they chose the song "I Kissed A Girl" by Katy Perry to play during their baton twirling routine at a school pep rally. One of the students reports that their twirl coach had asked them the day before not to use the song at the pep rally. ABC News reports that a spokesperson for the school board said the students received the reprimand because they deliberately disobeyed what their coach had asked them to do.

Suspension. For disobeying a coach. I can't believe that this school district has a policy to impose a punishment this severe for this kind of infraction.

We all know what the coach and the school are reacting to; we all know why the students are being suspended and it doesn't have anything to do with disobeying a coach. They didn't want a song, a very popular chart topping song, that endorses gay and lesbian activity to be played at the school. They're embarrassed because the more than 500 students who attended the pep rally were pretty revved up when the chords of this ditty were blasted through the gymnasium's PA system. They were singing along and loving every minute of it. The song is rebellion, sex, and rock 'n' roll all rolled into one. I'm betting teens today react to this song the same way my generation did to Motley Crüe's cover of Smokin' in the Boys Room. It was just edgy enough to be thrilling, yet no one was doing anything really evil by listening to it and enjoying it. And it had a really good bass line and drums.

I'm sure you can imagine that I find discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation unacceptable. But just for the sake of argumentation, I'll assume that this community thinks gay and lesbian lifestyles should not be endorsed or tolerated, and thus it is ok for the school to enforce this value in the public schools and for students to be suspended if they violate the code of conduct.

If this is the case, then why doesn't the school district just be straight about what the students are being suspended for? Why all the posturing and political correctness? My guess is because they know that it is wrong to discriminate in this way. They've allowed far more sexually charged songs that endorse straight sex (like "Super Freak" and Soulja Boy's "Go Hard") to be blasted during the pep rallies and games. They know they've got a double standard and they don't feel like defending it so they're sidestepping the issue altogether.

Incidentally, the mother of one of the suspended students is sounding off about this to the media. Good for her. I'd be outspoken too. I'd let the whole town hear about it.

How would you react if it was your daughter? Your town? Your school district?

*Again, I know it's terrible to do this double-negation thing -- the "n't not" thing. But I do it in my speech all the time, so I do it here in my blog. Sorry to all the copy-editor types out there who are feeling their skin crawl in reaction to this.

Clearly I am not a hip mom

Homecoming is coming. For Grace, that is. I have never been able to figure out why homecoming is such a huge deal while you are in high school and then something you avoid after you finish high school.

Anyways...

There has been hub-bub for weeks now. Pretty much since the first day of school. What's happening? When's the dance? Do you have a date? What are you wearing?

The answers are: A game in the afternoon, 8 pm on a Friday night, no (and she's not concerned with this), and a dress we bought on Sunday from Macy's.

When I was in high school, I attended few formal events. There were exactly two: a year-end banquet that only juniors and seniors were invited to, which I attended stag both years. There were no other school sponsored formal events. Of course there were the debutante balls and the seasonal cotillions, but I was always too chicken to ask a boy to a formal event. So I sent in my RSVP card with regrets and then watched as other girls talked about the event for weeks before and afterward.

Based on my experience, I was skeptical when Grace said that Homecoming was a formal dance and that students were going as couples. I thought maybe it was just something she and a few friends had dreamt up. I am so frickin' naïve. I appear to be the only mother in the world who doesn't know that the Homecoming Dance is of course a formal event, and usually the first one a girl goes to. Thus it's a rite of passage. All the other girls and mothers seem to know this.

I suddenly feel entirely unprepared and inadequate as a mother. It seems that every other mother I know knew this and has been planning for it, realizing it is a big stepping stone in the life of a teenager. But me, I'm thinking, are you sure it's formal? I mean, there's a game that ends at 6 and then a formal that begins at 8? Are you sure you won't be the only one there in a dress? I think that maybe the other kids are just going to wear jeans from the game, don't you think?

After I finally clued in to the whole situation, I made time to go to the mall with her to buy the dress. It was only after the purchase that she asked me if I would be there to help her get ready. She really wants to straighten her hair and wanted to know if I would help. AAAAAAaaaahhhhHH. I feel so dumb for not getting this earlier.

Like I said, I feel a little behind the eight ball on this one. When did all these traditions and customs come into play that I knew nothing about before now? How does every other mother know about them? Am I that clueless?

Dear Sarah Palin,

In reading the text of a documentary on your life, I found out that you eloped when you were 24. You and Todd went to the courthouse for a civil ceremony without telling either of your families. The documentary says that you two were so eager to get married that you didn't even bring along a couple friends to serve as witnesses. You and Todd went across the street to a nursing home and asked if there were two people who would stand as witnesses for the civil ceremony.

You and Todd were blessed by the birth of your first child, a son, less than 8 months later.

Given my past and history, I think we may share similar life story. Granted, I am not a public servant nor am I in the political limelight. And I am no longer married the father of my first child. You and Todd are so lucky to have found the one you truly love and care for so early in life and to have had such a rich and happy 20 years together.

Despite these differences, I think we do share something in common.

I started this blog because I wanted to examine my life, my past, in order to understand better who I am. I'm trying to face the past and be honest with myself and others. It's not been fun. Especially since, like you, I have a teenage daughter at home who reminds me so much of my own teenage self. But I am working towards this goal of understanding who I am because I think it helps be a better mother, and a better human being. I may be wrong, but I'm willing to take the risk because I think it's worth it.

I doubt we will ever meet. If we do, I'm sure we will have lots to disagree on. However, I hope that each of us finds peace in resolving our past, whatever that past may hold.


All the best to you and your family,
Heather

Three strikes, you're out

I don't let Grace wear tank tops outside of on the pool deck and around the house with family. I don't mean cute shirts that are loose that just happen to not have sleeves. I'm talking about those tank tops that fit like a glove, sometimes with flirty lace trim, and often with a low neckline and revealing armholes. They're designed to make a woman look good. Maybe a little too good. She has about six of these tank tops. Don't ask me 'if you don't like them so much, then where did she get them?' Who bought them for her and under what auspices is a whole other blog post in and of itself.

Twice last week one of the tank tops made it to school. I won't bore you with the details, but there was plenty of warning at home that of course she wouldn't wear the tank top alone, she would wear a shirt over it. Unfortunately, when someone makes videos during the school day and posts them to the web, your mother can find out that you indeed wore only the tank top all day.

For all three years of middle school we had huge problems with what should and what shouldn't be worn out in public. Not just tank tops, but lots of outfits that were definitely not within my range of what should be worn outside in public. I've explained, I've offered advice, I've encouraged with lots of feminist lingo, I've yelled, I threatened, I've had her hair cut short, I've taken away her clothing, I've given away her clothing, you name it. Yet here we are in the first week of ninth grade with two infractions. I warned her, I'm not going down this path again. Do Not Push Me. Heed My Warning. There Will Be Consequences If You Don't Adhere To My Rules.

Grace just came in at 9 pm after a full day of school, swim practice, homework study hall, and then a game with friends. She walked through the hallway quickly past me. I looked up long enough to see the outfit, and when she was out of sight I called to her to come back. She went to the restroom. She called, 'hold on!' She came out in about 3 minutes, now in her night clothes. And then the drama began.

I took away the tank tops. All six. She's mad. She said that now she can't layer her shirts over her tank tops. Mind you, I've never actually seen her layer the t-shirts over the tank tops unless she's in front of me. As soon as she's out of my sight, it's off with the shirt and in with much less.

OK, here's my big problem with this. It's the issue of me having a rule, a well articulated rule, and that my daughter absolutely refuses to follow it. The fact that I have a reason for why I made the rule doesn't matter. If she doesn't agree with me, she will not follow the rule, case closed. I feel like my rules apply only when she there is a chance she will get caught. They really don't apply at all then, right?

Actually, there's a much bigger problem with the whole thing. It's not so much about the clothes and appearance and more about me wanting her to work within the boundaries I've given her. I know what the kids are wearing these days, and I let her do stuff that is reasonable. But when I'm telling her to curb it because she's doing a little too much advertising, it's really important to me. She just sees me getting upset over nothing and not 'getting it.' But I'm worried about a much bigger picture. She's a girly girl and she's perceived as being shallow and flighty. She talks too much, and her teachers don't like it. She says 'I just don't get math and science,' even though she's bright. And the boys hit on her. They hit on her all the time. I guess I'm lucky that she doesn't notice it as much as I do. She's just not the picture of a soon-to-be-successful woman, you know? Is it so hard to convince a girl that rising above all the girl talk and gossip is so much better than the superficiality we all regret in our adulthood?

All this to say, I don't think that provocative attire is helping her. I want her to wake up and realize that the years are passing. This is exactly the stage of life in which women fall behind, way behind. Tween and teen girls worry about what they look like and whether that boy noticed them and who's popular and how my locker is decorated and how many times I went to the mall. They don't realize that opportunity is slipping through their fingers like sand while they are distracted with the superfluous.

I've convinced myself that the hour I just spent fuming over this was a reaction to something much bigger than the single infraction itself. But I'm not yet convinced that my daughter sees the bigger picture.

Dear Bristol Palin,

This is my blog and sometimes I talk about my past. Sometimes on this blog I write about politicians and current events. The first time I heard about you was when a news organization flashed a headline about your current pregnancy on their online site. I can't imagine what it feels like to be you right now. Your pregnancy would have been stressful enough, your mother's acceptance of the VP position on the Republican ticket also would have been stressful enough, but to lump the two events together must be a lot to deal with at one time.

A little over a week ago I wrote about my experiences as a young woman, naive and pregnant, unsure what to do next. The values of my family and the community I was in were not very different from your own. The child that I was pregnant with is now in high school, a daughter. Her name is Grace and she is 14 now. Given this experience of my own, I felt like I should say something on my blog, but I wanted to make sure that before I wrote anything that it would be helpful and not hurtful. So I am writing to you now as a cohort -- a young mother-to-be -- and as a parent of a teen.

When I found out I was pregnant with my boyfriend's child, I wanted to just be an ordinary person who could live my life in peace. Yes, I was young and pregnant, and yes, I had been having sex before I was married, and yes, I wasn't planning on getting pregnant at the time or in the way that I did. Despite all this, I didn't want people to apologize for me or hide me in shame. Conversely I also didn't want to be paraded about as someone who demonstrated the compassion and love of my parents and brand new in-laws. I just wanted to be me and be calm.

I hope that you are able to find a quiet place and just feel free. Be yourself. Feel free to continue to develop your opinions and ideas and ideals. If all goes well in the near future, you will have a new young person with whom you can spend the rest of your life. One of the most important things that new person needs is a mom who knows who she is.

You are young and you still have a lot of growing to do. I'm sure that this sounds unfair because you feel very grown up right now. You are about to be a wife and a mother and start your adult life. But despite all this, one day you will look back at yourself at 17 and realize how much you have learned since this time. Life is a journey in which you constantly are learning and changing, no matter how old you get. We all grow continually through life -- that's what life is. If you stop growing and changing, you are dying. The good news is that you and your child can grow and develop together. You will make mistakes, all moms do. But if you hold fast to the idea that your relationship with your child is an important and cherished one, both of you will benefit from your life together.

I know we will probably never meet. But if we do, I'll treat you to coffee and my best key lime pie. I'll even give you the recipe if you promise to give me one of yours that is just as delectable. It will be a fun time, I'm sure!

Take care of yourself. I wish all the best to you.


Heather

Too much too fast

My mom came in town Tuesday. She survived the major FAA glitch and only had to sit on the tarmac at Atlanta Hartsfield for four hours before getting to taxi to the runway and takeoff. When she finally arrived at the house she came to my bedroom with a hug, a kiss, and comforting empathy for my state of recovery. A little while later she produced an enormous photo album that I had assembled shortly before leaving for college. It must weigh at least 20 pounds. It is literally crammed with photos, every page covered entirely with pictures overlapping. There are a few photographs from early childhood but most of the contents of the album span -- you guessed it -- my teen years.

I thought that there would probably be old pics that I could slap up on facebook and laugh with newly-reunited friends over. But here's the problem: I didn't realize how confronted I would feel at looking through this thing. When I assembled this album half my life ago, I wasn't interested in covering up the truth. The pictures included my good, my bad, and my ugly, inside and out. A picture with my first high school boyfriend and I at the beach, both of us embarrassed and looking sheepishly at the camera. One of me crashed on the couch in my family's living room with cramps and a migraine, still wearing my all-black theatre tech garb after the final performance of the school's spring musical. Candid shots from a surprise birthday celebration in which all interested parties had conspired to send me a dozen roses supposedly sent by my at-the-time crush. Many goofy pics by the poolside, the beachfront, and the dock.

I am being flooded with evidence of reality in my past. A person's mental memories fade away, but these pictures bring it all back, along with supplying a good bit of emotional information that was long since gone. My first high school boyfriend sent me a dozen flowers the day before the homecoming game. He wrote on the card that he loved me and that he was so happy that I was his girlfriend. I freaked out. I didn't know what to do. We had been together for four weeks, he had never come close to doing anything ungentlemanly, and I suddenly flipped out and just wanted to bolt from the whole thing. He was crushed. I was a completely insensitive and selfish jerk.

I was mean. I was selfish. I was vain. I was insecure. I was hyperactive and annoying. I'm not sure how much who I am today differs from what I was then.

I look at many of these pictures and see a young and immature girl. And then I realize that my daughter is the stage of life as I was when the photos were taken. I complain so tirelessly about her, harping on every little adolescent thing she does. I just keep thinking of her, why are you so immature? And then I look at myself at the same age and just about pass out in embarrassment.

I asked my mother to bring along this photo album. She's been begging me for years to get this stuff out of her house. How many yearbooks is a woman supposed to preserve and store before she loses her mind, she would ask me. I've been opening up myself to facing the reality of who I am and how my past shaped that. In order for this to be an honest process, I need to face the real past, not the glossy reworked version that is in my memories. I thought asking her to bring this stuff would aid in the bold quest for ultimate truth that I am pursuing. (Lordy.) Facebook is only adding to the flood of data. I started saying "Yes, I accept" to friend requests on facebook from people I wanted to forget. Worse, I started actually thinking of people I wanted to avoid, searching for them on facebook, and asking them to be my friend. I still have limits, I mean, I haven't thrown caution completely to the wind. But still, I am conversing with quite a few people these days that I would have just as soon forgotten.

I'm having a hard time accepting that looking into the past is this overwhelming. My past doesn't include the things you'd expect to make me avoid it. It was just a suburban life in a typical WASP family, loaded with community center ballet, piano lessons, and trips to the shopping mall with just a smidgen of international travel dabbed on the top. What could be so hard to look back on? Nonetheless, I'm thinking I've overdone it just a bit on the wanting-to-face-myself stuff. I need to take this step by step, a little each day, and grow at a more sensible pace.

Whew.

Unplanned Pregnancy

Through a series of events and reconnections in the past few days, I have a feeling that I will reminded of some unpleasant events from the past. I figured that instead of just passively waiting for them to seep into my conscious thoughts without invitation, I would readily provoke them and deal with the feelings head-on.

I grew up under the doctrine of 'abstinence only.' No exceptions, no excuses, no discussion. Sex is not something that you even think about before you are married. If one dares to flirt with this sin, all manner of evil will rain down upon you and your entire life will be ruined. I wish I were exaggerating, but alas, this is about as accurate a summary of the teachings as I can provide.

We all know what was really happening. Teens were sleeping with each other all over the place. Sex in cars, behind the football field bleachers, in swimming pools while parents were out of town, on the beach under blankets, at drunken wine cooler parties, and on and on. But I was not into all that. I was scared to death to try any of it. I didn't go near it and avoided it like the plague. I believed those teachings -- I might not go to hell for these sins, but I would live in hell on earth as a natural consequence of these actions. I really believed that if you went beyond kissing a boy before saying 'I do' that you would regret it for the rest of your god-given days.

Well, I went to college and I met the son of a preacher. He was a religion major. He was called into the ministry and preached in his father's pulpit. All his friends were good boys. We all know the end of the story. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He liked sex and had had plenty of it. Three years into the tumultuous dating relationship, I was pregnant and we had a shotgun wedding. Mind you, it was an expensive wedding, and quite traditional and ornate given the circumstances, but shotgun nonetheless. The entire service was infused with the gravity of the situation. It wasn't a celebration of a union; it was the sobering of two reckless youths and a commission from a host of witnesses to go forth and make good on what God had unexpectedly blessed them with.

My mother, I love her. She was distressed. It was about the most embarrassing and shameful thing that had ever happened to her. She asked me at one point during wedding planning, 'have you even thought about what you're going to tell your child one day? Children figure out these things!' My reply was perhaps the first display of my deviance from the establishment. I said, I suppose I will tell my child the truth. What good is covering up anything?

As time marched on, I metamorphasized into somewhat of a sage mother. I had gone through a tough spell, made my mistakes. But God was faithful to me, and I to him, and his glory was seen in my obedience in how I raised my child. Whatever. At the time I thought it was a bit bizarre. Once I was on a college campus with some of these church peers. They were all my same age, but none were married or had kids. And of course, none had ever had sex. There was a pro-choice rally going on near the campus mall. One of my peers came to me and asked me to join them in going to the rally. They thought it would be rife with non-believers and the perfect place to evangelize. They said, you could bring Grace. (She was not even a year old at this point.) The idea was that I would stand as evidence of what good God could bring out of sin if you were obedient to the teachings of the bible. Wow. I guess no one there realized how horrified I was at the idea of using my infant daughter as the personification of evil-turned-good. I explained that I couldn't go to the rally. I know that in my situation of an unplanned pregnancy, the father of my child wanted to marry me and support his new family, and he also had a bachelor's degree. We also had the support of both of our families. So I know what I would do in that situation, but I can't tell someone else what to do in their own situation.

The cracks in the facade of the Perfectly Redeemed and Restored Mother were always there.

These kinds of comments and situations came up over and over. Each time, a new fracture in the facade was displayed. And finally, there came the point where the tiny fractures all conspired and the whole thing came crashing to the ground. And I stood there as me, newly self-actualized, feminist me, saying 'get over it. It's really not that big of a deal.'

The event was this: In the small bible belt town I was living, a huge college age/young adult get-together was held at the farmhouse of a family in the church. This family was legendary in the church. The couple had bought the old farm house and the acres surrounding it as a fixer-upper. Through the sweat of their brow and their long-suffering patience for the financial provision of God, they transformed it into a warm home for their four children. The children were homeschooled and they were sharp kids, a constant testament to the faithful Christian teachings of their parents, mixed with practical lifestyle derived from such godly obedience. This mother was genuine and full of wisdom. She was a granola woman, making her own simple dresses and quilts, always wearing Birkenstocks with socks because they were comfortable no matter the occasion. She made her own tomato sauce and jams and jellies. When she invited over the college students for a big gathering, at least four or five young women clambered around her at all times, trying to soak up all of her aura and learn something about being a Proverbs 31 woman. Let's call her Wise Experienced Mother.

I attended the Farm House Gathering as Perfectly Redeemed and Restored Mother. At this gathering, a few young women sought out my advice. I suppose you could say I was Wise Experienced Mother-to-be. One of these women was newly married and got pregnant on her honeymoon. She had just found out. It was unexpected. Neither she nor her husband had finished their undergraduate degrees, and non-traditional students were non-existent at the Christian college they were attending. She confessed to me that she wondered if this was God's intentional working because they had been having sex while dating. Because they had been disobedient to God's teachings, God somehow wanted to make them face the challenge of her being pregnant while still an undergraduate. I can't remember what I told her.

And then the moment that tipped me over the edge happened. I spotted my mother-in-law and Wise Experienced Mother talking together. Mother-in-law looked concerned, and Wise Experienced Mother looked distraught. I came to where they were talking. It turns out that Wise Experienced Mother's oldest son, 18-years-old, had just found out his girlfriend was pregnant. Like the son, the girlfriend was also a good Christian girl who had pledged that 'Real Love Waits.' The only solution to the situation was for son and girlfriend to get married and to start their family. Wise Experienced Mother and her husband would have to help them on this bumpy path of life and had told their son that they could live together at the farm house. My mother-in-law just looked at her with compassion. Then Wise Experienced Mother said it. Right in front of me. She said, "I don't know how we're going to get through this." And my mother-in-law comforted her saying that she knew exactly how she felt. Wise Experienced Mother looked at me with a somewhat ambiguous but yet telling expression. It was 'I'm embarrassed that you just heard that' mixed with 'You can't understand because of who you are.' My mother-in-law just wore a goofy patronizing smile.

OK, I understand that mothers don't wish for their sons to knock up girls unexpectedly. And I understand that getting married young is hard. And I respect that the culture of this small bible belt town does not consider abortion an option. Fine. But I don't understand the comment "I don't know how we're going to get through this." The logistics of a wedding, marriage, pregnancy, and the future seemed to be taken care of. It's not like this young couple was facing anything impossible. They had both just graduated from high school, they both came from supportive families, they both were well connected in their communities. Sure, it would be tough to cut out a niche for themselves and be financially solvent, but I can think of a lot worse circumstances. I think the comment was reflective of Wise Experienced Mother's anticipation of the social repercussions of her son's actions. She no longer would be spotless and perfect. She had raised a child and had failed at the most basic fundamental of Christian rearing -- don't let your kids have sex. She was flawed, and flawed in a serious way. And there was absolutely no way to cover it up. Effectively she was telling my mother-in-law, 'I don't know how I can face this situation because I am ashamed.' And she was seeking out the advice of my mother-in-law, who expressed that she as well understood the shame and embarrassment. I walked away. I realized that I was probably the only player in my own story of unplanned pregnancy who didn't see it as this awful event that would be a scar on everyone forever. Until the day I died, hell, until the day my daughter died, people would be talking about how thank God things turned out ok despite that sinful beginning. I just couldn't stomach it. This was my daughter's life, her identity. Just GET OVER IT ALREADY. Stop making her and I live in this world of shame because you can't get over your own unnecessary shame. There's no need for atonement and redemption. There's no need for forgiveness and restoration. There's just life. And me and my daughter have one. Stop telling us about how you wished it had been different so that you wouldn't feel so blighted.

As a mother of a teen now, I have seen kids not much older than my daughter get pregnant. And I see that some of her friends are well on their way to hopping in and out of bed, if they aren't already. I've contemplated what could happen. Yes, of course I've talked with my daughter a lot. I implore of her please to be thoughtful and careful about when she decides to have sex and who with. I talk about sex with her a lot. What would I do, though, if I found that my daughter was pregnant? What would be my reaction? I hope that I would not be worried about my social station in life and how this reflects upon me. I hope that I would be caring, and help her through the situation and to help her decide on the best path.

I react to the way my daughter acts, and I focus on how it makes me look. I still haven't let go of her being part of me. So I cringe when she makes choices that are not the best and I get embarrassed. I say things that are not helpful. I am selfish. But I hope I can learn from my own experience of unplanned pregnancy to realize that this is not beneficial to her at all.

The drawbacks of being self-righteous and self-pitying

When I began middle school in 7th grade, I was not quite as ready for it as some of my colleagues. Emotionally, developmentally, physically. Did I mention physically? I was not looking like a 7th grader. At least that's what my insecurity told me and that's what I worked on the assumption of.

One of my childhood friends in particular seemed to blossom miraculously overnight and showed up to school on the first day of 7th grade as a new woman. I didn't know anyone could make our uniforms look so sultry, but boy, she pulled it off. Of course, it didn't hurt that over the summer she had also transformed herself from goodie-goodie honor roll student who could handle any responsibility an adult gave her into beach blanket bingo babe. She had the tan, the streaked blond hair, the Blues Brothers Raybans, the black gummy bracelets, and a home within walking distance of the strip. I thought, 'wow, no one will like her now. She's sold out.' Did I mention that I was not quite developmentally ready for middle school? Yeah. Like, I didn't get that being attractive and trendy would win you more admiration among your peers than good grades would. And I wasn't savvy enough to figure out that the good grades didn't have to be traded in for trendy and cool.

By 8th grade, I had gotten up my nerve to try out for the cheerleading squad. By some miracle, I actually made the squad. I thought, maybe things with turn around for me now. But Gorgeous Intelligent Beach Girl also made the squad. As did many other girls who I was intimidated by. We got to cheer for the middle school boys' basketball team. The season progressed in a typical way, with me slowly realizing that yes, I was a cheerleader, but sort of the runt of the squad in terms of appeal. I was tired of watching all the other girls get what I wanted so badly -- attention, popularity, and a reputation for being 'cool.' I comforted myself by thinking of all the ways I was better than them. I was more involved with my church. I never compromised my pure image for the attention of a boy. I didn't cuss. And I definitely didn't back-stab my friends. But all of this self-affirmation didn't help, and I just became more and more self-conscious and more and more jealous.

One Saturday morning, towards to end of the season, I found myself riding on the team bus traveling to an away game, along with the rest of the cheerleaders and the boys' basketball team. The boys' coach required the basketball players to sit in the front of the bus and the cheerleaders in the back, so the boys would keep their heads in the game. Whatever. I found myself sitting next to Gorgeous Intelligent Beach Girl for one hour on the bumpy ride north to some other tiny private Christian school I have long forgotten. I wasn't sure what to talk about with her, since I had convinced myself I was inherently a better person than she but yet felt terrifically inadequate with her. And I craved her approval, which would guarantee to bolster my station in life. And then, in a flash, I decided to do the unexpected.

I turned to her and started. "I saw this movie last weekend that I think you would like. Little Darlings. Have you heard of it?" And I proceeded to explain the plot, what I thought of what it taught young Christian girls like ourselves, and how I was so glad that we were rising to higher morals and goals than the teens in that monstrous movie. I got what I wanted -- she was tongue-tied, unsure how to respond. Neither of us was clever enough to think of the great comeback she could've delivered, "Why did you watch the movie if you felt it was immoral?" But nevermind that, I had gotten my steely revenge. Or so I thought.

At the end of 8th grade, we participated in 8th grade promotion exercises. In a surprise move that we students only found out about the moment it was announced at the exercises, the faculty had selected students who they felt demonstrated the godly characteristics epitomized by the life of Saint Barnabas. These students were given the honor of receiving an aptly named "Barnabas Award." And there I sat, along with all my peers donning our Sunday best, in front of all our families and entire faculty, waiting to find out who had been chosen. Many students received an award -- almost half the class. Most of the girls I envied got one. Gorgeous Intelligent Beach Girl got one. I did not.

I am sure I am the only student who participated in that event who remembers the Barnabas awards. Most of those who received one probably just threw the cheap certificate into their desk drawer and it was left there for years, and it was perhaps thrown out during spring cleaning after the proud recipient had long ago left home and started their adult life. Not only may I be the only one who remembers these awards, I may be the only one who remembers the difference between Barnabas and Barabbas. I just remember thinking at the time, this is so unfair. I am so good, and I try so hard, and all these mean mean mean people around me are just duping everyone into believing they are lovely individuals.

Gorgeous Intelligent Beach Girl friended me last week on facebook. The memories came flooding back within hours. I felt 14 all over again.